


Something Hidden in the Heart

by SithHappens



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FRIDAY has a capacity for subterfuge, Gen, Happy 100th Birthday Bucky!, Stucky - Freeform, and give side eye, suspicious Bucky Barnes, the boy can eat, the fluffiest of intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SithHappens/pseuds/SithHappens
Summary: There's definitely something rotten in the state of Avengers Tower and Bucky's been smelling it all week.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chvystiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chvystiel/gifts).



> I had a lot of fun writing this and I really hope Taylin likes it! So have some Bucky birthday celebration!

Bucky padded around the quiet, empty apartment in his socks and pajama pants with the inexplicable feeling that something was up.  It was rather unsettling considering the fact that if there was one thing in his awful skill set he could be proud of after all his unnaturally long years, it was his ability to figure shit out.  But in this instance, he hadn’t the foggiest.  He knew Steve was acting weird, hiding something from him.  Nothing terrible, he could tell, maybe because he seemed to have a sixth sense for that sort of thing when it came to Rogers; always had, if his patchy memory served him at all these days.  Still, this went beyond his favorite blond bombshell.  The whole damned team seemed to be in on it and that was bothersome.  Definitely not conducive to a happy Friday morning. **  
**

The feeling deepened when Bucky entered the kitchen to find a box of fresh “everything” bagels sitting on the counter next to a covered plate with a small note sitting on top.  He picked up the cover first to find a huge heap of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast.  Now, he and Steve each had a high metabolism between the serums they’d been given and all the training they did, but even this was a bit of overkill first thing in the morning.  Finally taking a look at the note, he immediately recognized Steve’s “new” handwriting, much clearer than the chicken scratch he used to dole out.

“ _Hey Buck_

_Thought I’d fix you up some breakfast to start your day off right.  There’s lox and cream cheese in the fridge to go with the bagels too.  I went on my usual run, but might be busy with some errands today, so don’t worry if I’m scarce.  I’ll see you tonight.   X_

_-Steve_ ”

Highly suspicious.  Mostly because Bucky already assumed Steve was out for his run.  And he would have assumed not seeing him most of the day was just mission related.  No, Steve was trying way too hard to cover something up.  Of course, Bucky was not one to waste food, not way back when and certainly not now after 70-some-odd years of tube feeding and intravenous drips, not now that he was allowed to eat and he has allowed himself to eat.  So he set about putting a dent in the spread of food before him as he glowered slightly and thumbed at the note.  There was a dark blue smudge at the bottom left corner of the paper and he brought it under his nose for a tentative sniff while smearing it further under his finger.  One of Steve’s pastels no doubt, which meant the little punk must have been doing something early that morning in his art room.  His art room; probably the smallest room in the apartment that didn’t house a toilet, yet still bigger than their apartment had been in Brooklyn all those years ago, as big as his place in Bucharest had been.

After breakfast, leaving a few bagels for a snack later, Bucky changed clothes and grabbed his duffel bag to head down to the gym.  A little PT was as good a way as any to stay sharp and work off some of that unease that had been plaguing him all week.  On the elevator ride down, he noticed something shiny on the floor and stooped to pick it up.  A small scrap of cellophane in reflective silver that glinted in the light as he tilted it back and forth.  It was innocuous enough, but he couldn’t shake the thought it seemed out of place.  He still held it between his thumb and forefinger as he exited the elevator, only to be greeted by Romanoff and Barton heading his direction.

“What ya got there, Barnes,” Nat asked as she pressed a towel over the sweat damp tendrils of hair sticking to her neck.  One eyebrow was still arched in amused curiosity as she took a pull from her water bottle.

“Dunno, some shiny piece’a plastic I found on the floor,” Bucky replied with a shrug and a hope that he could wring some information out of the situation.

That hope was dashed when Nat gave it a cool look before plucking it from his grasp.  “Looks like trash to me.  I’ll toss it for you on my way out.”

Then again, maybe her response was a clue in its own way that the scrap was something he shouldn’t have found.  Romanoff was an expert spy, but he was observant enough to know when she was trying to play it cool.  And Barton standing there was strange on its own, considering he was uncharacteristically awake before the ass crack of noon on his day off without a thermos full of coffee glued to his hand.

“What?”  Clint furrowed his brow and Bucky realized he must have been glaring at him the whole time he thought.

“Nothin, just not used to seein you here so early, is all,” Bucky shook his head.

“Training,” Barton countered, crossing his arms in front of his chest, making Nat roll her eyes.

Bucky eyed him up and down a moment.  “Look pretty un-sweaty for a guy who’s been training.”

“Nat and Sam trained, I watched.”  Barton’s chin tilted up with a defiant smirk.

Okay, that sounded about right for the man, so Bucky let it slide with a huff and a nod before stepping around them toward the training room without another word.  Once through the doors, he found Wilson using one of the treadmills at a steady jog, already sporting a thin sheen of perspiration.

“Barnes,” he grunted by way of greeting, not bothering to slow down.

Bucky took a few moments to securely wrap the knuckles of both hands.  Maybe he couldn’t really damage his left, but it lessened the chance of the metal plates snagging on the canvas of a heavy bag and causing unnecessary damage.  He was considerate like that.  It also gave him a chance to linger.

“Miss your running date with Steve,” he cast out, hoping to reel in something useful.

Sam shook his head, though managed to keep his form solid.  “Nat wanted to train early.  Plus, you’re not catchin my ass out in the cold when we’ve got perfectly good equipment inside.”

With a sour grumble, Bucky turned his attention to the punching bags and set himself to work.  Everyone seemed to have a perfectly reasonable answer for everything, yet it all still seemed off to him somehow.  There was something just under the surface, of his interactions, of his memory.  He couldn’t put his finger on it and it was growing irksome, so he used his fists to help clear his mind.  It was after a particularly hard hit, making the chains jingle and the ceiling joist groan in protest, when Bucky found himself bracing for Sam’s reaction only to be met with silence.  Usually, something like that happens, Bucky slips up or leaves an opening, and Wilson was all over it, cracking wise.  But this time, nothing.  Barely even a derisive glance.  Instead, Sam pressed a few buttons on his machine before slowly coming to a stop and hopping off, gathering his things and heading out.

Maybe it was time for Bucky to start being concerned.

Finally feeling the satisfying strain of exhaustion in his muscles, Bucky called it quits and hit the showers.  He was back in the elevator when he decided he might as well watch a movie that afternoon and pressed the button for the common room in hopes of perusing the DVD and BluRay collection there.

“Sorry, no can do, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s bright voice replied with an air of remorse, startling Bucky somewhat.  “The Boss has some unscheduled maintenance happening on that floor today.  Off limits for the time being.”

“Did he blow himself up again,” he asked under his breath, though obviously the speakers could still pick him up.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” was the AI’s snappy comeback and he couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Is there something I can do for ya instead?  If you’re after a quick snack, I know where Mr. Stark hides all the best ones.”

“Nah, I just wanted to check out some of the movies,” Bucky replied, shaking his head for at least the hundredth time over having an actual conversation with a computer program.  It never ceased to amaze him.

“Ah, well, if you like, I can make the whole library available to you on any of the devices in your and Captain Rogers’ apartment,” came the happy response.  “I can even categorize them however you prefer.  Netflix doesn’t have anything on me.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” Bucky laughed again as he leaned against the elevator car’s back wall.  Though he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what sort of unscheduled maintenance could possibly be going on.

The majority of the afternoon consisted of watching movies, pausing said movies to look up certain references that sounded interesting on the internet, polishing off the rest of the lox and bagels and the rare leftover pizza from the night before, and sending Steve a couple texts, trying to fish for information.  Rogers didn’t bite, which led Bucky to believe that he was not alone.  Steve could hardly ever stay so tight-lipped with him without some sort of outside interference.  But the responses didn’t set off any red flags so Bucky let it go for the moment, returning to the comedy he’d picked out for himself.  It was hours later, almost dark out, when his phone chimed again, alerting him to a new message.

**Steve: Sorry I’ve been gone all day.  Meet me in the common room and I’ll make up for it by taking you to dinner.**

“The common room,” Bucky muttered to himself in question.  “FRIDAY, didn’t you say the common room was closed today?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI replied, though he could have sworn it sounded like it was trying to cover something up.  “But everything finished sooner than expected, so it’s been reopened.”

“Uh-huh,” he mused, eyeing the ceiling with distrust and ignoring how ridiculous that particular gesture made him feel.  It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Artificial Intelligence included a capacity for subterfuge.  A computer had pulled one over on him and that was damned annoying at best and somewhat terrifying at worst, since he was pretty sure they made scary movies about that sort of thing these days.

Unrelenting curiosity won out in the end and Bucky sent a quick confirmation text before throwing on a warm shirt over his tee and running his fingers through his hair to make sure it lay straight.  The elevator ride was almost excruciating as the nervous anticipation spiked in him.  Something in the back of his mind was eating at him, puzzling at all the odd things that had been happening, telling him he might be reaching the culmination of everything and he wasn’t sure what it could be.  And he definitely wasn’t prepared for what waited for him when the elevator slowed to a halt and the merry ding sounded as the doors slid open.

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ ”

Bucky’s eyes widened at the sight of all his teammates, all his friends greeting him with huge, elated grins amidst a storm of black and silver confetti, the slips of cellophane matching the piece that he found earlier.  The place was decorated in the same colors at the confetti, hangers and streamers and odds and ends on a few tables filled with food and drinks.  With a devious smirk, Nat pulled him from the elevator, loosening his feet from where they’d planted themselves in shock to guide him toward Steve.

“Happy 100th, old man,” Rogers beamed at him with that shit eating grin of his, one Bucky would normally, happily try wiping off his face, but was much too overwhelmed to even think about.

“I…” he managed to croak out.  "I hadn’t even realized…   _You_ did all this?“

The smile on Steve’s face turned gentle.  "Oh, no.  I just spent the day convincing Tony not to go overboard.”

“If you were hoping for a petting zoo, blame Star Spangled Buzzkill over here,” Stark chimed in in a dramatic huff, causing a bit of a snicker among the gathered group.  "Speaking of blowing, where the hell is the cake?“

"I got it,” Rhodes called as he wheeled out a small cart with a huge cake from the kitchen area.  It was multi-layered, but plainly decorated, with the words Happy Centennial written out in swirly black icing over the white background.  A lone candle stood at the top, which Scott reached out to light with a zippo.

“I suggested a candle per year, but _somebody_ nixed that as a fire hazard,” Clint griped with a roll of his eyes.

Vision spoke up from where he stood close to Wanda, who was hiding her smile behind her drink.  "I merely suggested that it may trigger the fire suppressant system.  I do not think that would be optimal for the festivities at hand.“

"Could’ve gotten those number candles.  You know, a one and two zeroes,” Peter added, trailing off when everyone’s eyes turned toward him.

“And where were you when I was taking suggestions, huh,” Tony asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“At school, where he’s supposed to be,” Bruce answered on the kid’s behalf, throwing a dirty look Stark’s way.

The billionaire threw his hands up in defeat even as Thor gave off a deep laugh.  "It is no matter.  One candle, one century.  A fitting compromise.  Now let us raise our drinks in Barnes’ honor as he sees to it!“

There was a murmur of agreement as everyone hefted their glasses high, returning all the attention to Bucky.   He felt a little uneasy under the weight of it, though he knew they were all his friends there to celebrate him.  Still, he managed a smile, chuckling as he shook his head and leaned over to blow out the single candle.  A cheer thundered from the group and though he was still unaccustomed to showing affection in front of others, Bucky reached out and clasped Steve’s hand in his own.

The night continued on easily enough with each person coming up to personally wish Bucky a happy birthday.  He thanked them all politely and even tried to chat a bit, which was still somewhat out of his wheelhouse these days.  Mostly, he observed, from behind a drink or a sandwich or a bite of cake on his fork.  Observed and tried to make sense of it all.  The party was pleasant.  They were his friends and they were kind enough to think of him.  But it was still all so surreal; all so off.  Not with them, but with the situation itself.

Eventually, Steve sidled back up to him after mingling a little, leaning in close to press their shoulders together.  "Hey, birthday boy.  Are you having fun?”

Bucky nodded with a thoughtful hum as he watched the rest of the group making merry.  Wanda, Clint, and Natasha were trying not to snicker at an expectant looking Vision.  Probably tried telling a joke again to mixed reviews.  Sam, T'Challa, and Thor were having a lively conversation; Wilson easily holding his own among royalty.  Scott and Peter listened starry-eyed while Tony and Rhodes regaled them with some story as Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s nice.  Everyone’s having a good time,” he finally answered.

Steve mused before leveling him with a no-nonsense look.  "But are _you_?“

"Of course,” Bucky nodded again absently.  "It’s a great party, it’s just…“

"It’s just what, Buck,” Steve pressed gently, keeping his voice down as he snuck a hand out to press soothingly at Bucky’s back.

“I don’t know,” Barnes shrugged with a heavy breath as he tried to make sense of it himself.  "It was nice of everyone to do this for me.  I’m grateful.  For this, for having friends, for even being alive after everything.  A hundred years, Jesus Christ!  But celebrating my birthday like this just seems strange.  Like something isn’t quite right.  Something’s…“

"Wrong,” Rogers supplied with a caring smile.

“Yeah, wrong,” Bucky laughed under his breath, feeling a little better that Steve seemed to understand.

“Okay, how about this,” Steve began in a conspiratorial tone.  "I’m gonna head upstairs.  Give me ten minutes, then sneak away from the party and meet me up there.“

Bucky couldn’t help the flirtatious smile that spread his lips at the sound of that.  Ghosting his metal hand along the spur of Steve’s hip, he replied in a dark tone "Oh yeah?  You gonna have something nice waitin for me?”

“Buck,” Steve snorted somewhat scandalized.  He pointed an accusatory finger at Barnes, but couldn’t hide his smirk.  "Yes, but not that.  That comes later.“

He must have seen the mischievous glint as Bucky opened his mouth to make a lewd comment because he quickly cut him off with a hand to cover his lips and an amused glare before high-tailing it as stealthily as he could.  Which wasn’t too bad for a beautiful blond with an ass that didn’t quit.  Those ten minutes seemed to last forever, especially not knowing what might be in store for him upstairs.  But when the time finally elapsed, and not a second later, he easily saw his way out of the party.  The group was none the wiser, except for maybe Nat and T’Challa who seemed to pull all eyes to them at just the right moment.  Bucky would not have been surprised if that was part of Steve’s plan, too.

Steve was waiting for him just inside their apartment door, a soft, almost nervous smile on his lips.  “I’ve gotta admit, I went along with the whole group party because I wanted you to see just how much all of us care about you, but… well, I had a bit of contingency plan in case something like this happened.  Plus, my own gift for you.”

“Well, aren’t you fulla surprises,” Bucky smirked, tugging Steve’s shirt gently.  “But if you’re the gift I’d like to get to the unwrapping part PDQ.”

With a fond roll of his eyes, Steve took Bucky’s hand, leading him toward the art room.  Though Steve had expressly told him he was free to come and go as he pleased, Bucky still did his best not to intrude.  It seemed like Steve’s personal sanctum, where he went to unwind or be creative and Bucky was not keen on infringing upon that.  The fact that he was being taken straight there, through the door with Steve’s fingers entwined with his, felt special.  That might have been birthday gift enough as far as he was concerned, but once in the room he was met with a sight both strange and familiar.

The room was aglow with the flickering lights of a few stubby, worn emergency candles, casting dancing shadows along the works in progress and reference images tacked on the walls.  On the desk was a plate piled high with Oreo cookies and two glasses of milk.  Steve stood to the side, rubbing at the back of his neck with an expectant look on his face.  “I know you’ve said you remember a lot now, but I wasn’t sure…”

“Couldn’t afford the ingredients for cake,” Bucky nodded, heart feeling full.  “Neither of us could bake for shit anyways.  But a packet’a Oreos and a glass’a milk with you was all the celebration I needed.”

Steve’s face lit up, maybe even brighter than the candles.  Though his eyes were a little misty.  “It’s real milk this time.  None of that powdered shit for us two bums anymore.”

“Halle-fuckin-loo,” Bucky smiled, squeezing Steve’s hand in his.  “Stevie…”

But the blond just shook his head, tugging him further into the room.  “C’mon.  Dig in while I get your present.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice.  He wasn’t necessarily hungry, he’d had quite a bit at the party, but he couldn’t pass up the sentimental joy of it.  One was already popped into his mouth when Steve pulled open the drawer across the desk from him to produce a leather bound sketch book, fairly new.  He handed it over to Bucky, grabbing his own cookie from the plate.

“It’s not much and you probably got more practical gifts from some of the others,” Steve explained with a quirk of his lips.  “But I thought you might like it.  Open it up.”

Dusting any arrant crumbs from his fingers, Bucky carefully opened up the cover to find a blank page.  Steve jutted his chin out at the look Bucky gave him, clearly indicating to keep going. Turning the page revealed an image that knocked the wind out of Barnes.  It was a sketch of him, young him, sitting cross-legged at his parents’ coffee table, playing cards with his little sister, Becca.  Go fish.  He knew because even through the tears that were starting to blur his vision he could make out the details of her dress, the colorful fabric and the little buttons and the way the hem of the skirt got rumpled as she knelt on the floor.  Easter Sunday, waiting for their Ma and Steve’s to finish up the dishes they were making for the church pot luck after services.

Bucky sniffed as he flipped the page to find another sketch.  This time it was of him and the other Howling Commandos sitting around a campfire comparing facial hair.  He couldn’t help the wet chuckle that bubbled out of him at the memory.  The group decided to try growing out their mustaches to rival Dugan’s as a gag.  All except Monty, who was rather proud of his own mustache, and Steve, who said he had to keep up appearance.  Gabe ended up coming the closest to Dugan’s glory, but only because Bucky ended up shaving his off before it got too heavy.  Ostensibly, it was a show of solidarity since his best friend couldn’t participate, though honestly it was because Steve had made a comment about preferring the feel of stubble and Bucky was damned accommodating that way.

“It’s just a couple memories I had recently,” Steve spoke gently, pulling Bucky’s attention from his reminiscing.  He had another cookie poised to stuff in his mouth, but dropped his hand to offer Bucky a searching look when their eyes met.  “I figured maybe, if there was anything you couldn’t quite remember or something you just wanted to see again, I could try my hand at it.  Put it in the book.  There aren’t a lot of photos around from back then.  A lot of things didn’t have photos at all.”

“God, you’re such a fuckin sap, Rogers,” Bucky laughed as he swiped at his eyes.  He gave a quiet sigh as he slipped his fingers along the edges of the binding.  “They’re beautiful, Steve.  You’re beautiful.”

Steve shook his head, shoulders bouncing in a silent chuckle as the cookie in his hand finally reached him mouth.  He didn’t even have the decency to finish chewing before he spoke again.  “So, you gonna tell me what you wished for?”

“How dare you,” Bucky teased in mock affront as he carefully tucked the sketchbook away to reach for another Oreo.  “I can’t blab or it won’t come true.”

“You’re allowed one exception and you know it,” Steve countered, trying and failing to keep his expression scolding.

“Alright, alright,” Barnes conceded with a dramatic wave of his hand.  He never really could say no to Steve, not for long anyway.  “I wished for this.”

“This,” Rogers deadpanned, disbelieving as his eyes wandered the silly little display he’d created.

“Well maybe not every single detail, but this,” Bucky replied as he tapped his thumb on his chest above his heart.  “This feeling.  Knowing people care, that I got friends.  Getting to come home to you.”

Jesus, but Steve looked like he was about to get choked up and if he started then Bucky would start and it would just be ridiculous.  But Rogers managed to swallow whatever was welling up in him and offered a lopsided grin.  “Now who’s the sap?”

“I ain’t gonna deny it,” Bucky tilted his chin up proudly.  Spur of the moment, he picked up his glass of milk and raised it toward Steve.  “To a couple old saps.”

“To a hundred years, give or take,” Steve added as he brought his glass up as well.  “And hopefully quite a few more birthdays to go.”

Bucky nodded as their glasses clinked together before he took a couple large gulps.  With a satisfied sigh, he sat his drink back down and lifted another cookie, fixing Steve with a cheeky smirk.  “Y’know, I think I might know what I’d like for my next birthday.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”  Steve smiled brightly and reached for the plate again.

“Maybe a couple cheesecake photos’a you,” Bucky answered as he tucked his lower lip between his teeth.  “Somethin to see me through some of these long missions when you ain’t with me.”

A blush crept its way across Steve’s cheeks and ears, but to his credit, he managed to hide his surprise with a playful grin.  “I’ll tell you what, Buck.  I just might let you earn that gift.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bucky beamed before tossing his Oreo up in the air and catching it in his mouth, delighting in Steve’s laughing cheer at the little display.  All things considered, he wouldn’t have had his 100th birthday any other way, either.


End file.
